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between you, me, and these bookshelves

synopsis: just the little things that happen in a little bookstore.

— featuring: albedo, ayato, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader (separate)

— cw: modern au, swearing, yn is an avid reader, use of childe's real name, none of the books i mention here are real lol

— author's notes: first headcanon post with multiple characters~ very self indulgent so hope you guys enjoy <3

Working at a bookstore isn't the most glamorous job in the world.

The pay is good for the amount of work you need to do, and most days nothing much happens.

But sometimes, there are just some events that happen between the bookstore's mahogany shelves that make your days just a bit more colorful.

Albedo

The bookstore has a chalkboard stand outside that details new releases, promotions, or events that the store has. Displayed on it are elaborate illustrations or hand-lettering, all of it done by the same person.

And he comes by every other weekend to re-do its contents.

You sometimes watch him as he draws, his nimble hands becoming dusted with colored chalk as he sketches on the blackboard, his light blond hair tied back as he furrows his brow, deep in concentration.

He’s caught you staring a handful of times, to which you turn away in hopes that he doesn’t bring it up. Thankfully he never does.

This week you watch as he colors in his artwork, a dragon and a young man with wings at the center soaring over rolling plains and sharp cliffs.

As the boy gets started with the lettering, you ask him a question.

“Do you really just come up with all this on the spot?”

The boy looks at you with curiosity in his eyes, “So you do talk. And here I was wondering if you just didn’t like talking to me.”

“Well, I don’t exactly know what we can really talk about. You’re a freelancer right?”

He smiles as he returns his attention back to his illustration, “You can say that. Well to answer your first question, I usually have a final outcome in mind before I start sketching. Your boss sends me a gist of what he wants and I draw it. Simple as that.”

You converse with him until he finishes, sprinkling in some questions about his work in between. As he packs up to leave, you ask him one last question.

“I never got your name, chalk boy.”

A silent question, but one that he still understands.

“It’s Albedo.”

The two of you end up striking up an easy conversation every time he visits, with you always watching him draw

If you express interest in his other works, he’ll let you browse his sketchbook 

One day while flipping through his drawings, you begin to see some familiar sights: a vending machine outside a nearby convenience store, a food stall, and the outside of the bookstore. Some pages have small doodles in pencil and ink, and some in color. Others have full illustrations.

The next page that you flip to, though, nearly takes your breath away. 

You find a colorful illustration of the bookstore, a blend of paint and ink. Sunlight streams through the glass walls and envelops the scene in a warm light. Boxes lay strewn on the floor, all of them brimming with books. And among the boxes stands you, a stack of books in hand as a small smile graces your face.

You look up when Albedo spots the page you’re on, “Ah, I hope you don’t mind that I sketched you a handful of times. I tend to draw what I find interesting.

“So is it alright if… I sketched you more often?”

Scaramouche

Scaramouche pisses you off most days.

He distracts you while you try to do your work, he steals the pen by the cash register whenever you need to use it, and worst of all, he always makes fun of whatever book you read.

No matter what genre it is, mystery, fantasy, or heaven forbid, romance, he'll always find something to tease you about.

But it’s odd. For someone who claims to hate every novel that you've taken interest in, you find yourself discussing with him each and every book you’ve read.

“Sure, Forest of Lies had a strong opening,” he starts, leaning back on his chair, “But did the princess seriously need to go through those arbitrary trials just to prove that she was determined to save her kingdom?”

“Fine, I thought it was stupid too,” you say, “But you have to admit, the characters are actually well-written and have interesting subplots. The knight having a backstory connected to the princess’ was a good twist.”

“But does anything really come from that twist? Or was it just there for shock value? When you get to the part where–”

You let out an exaggerated gasp, “Spoilers! I just got past the twist, asshole.”

“You should read faster then!” he says, going into the storage room to fetch some supplies, “Whatever, we’ll continue this when you finish the damn book.”

You’re about to continue reading when Scaramouche pops his head out and adds, “The next two novels in the series go downhill in quality from there. Trust me.”

“But this is a trilogy??”

“That’s the point!”

You realize that he had a point when you finally got to the second book.

Around halfway through reading the book, you catch him reading over your shoulder. You turn to look at him and he simply gives you a smug smile. You simply rolled your eyes and continued reading.

A couple of days go by after you finish the second book when he approaches you.

“What’s the occasion?” you say as Scaramouche hands you a book, a pen, a highlighter, and some book tabs.

It’s a novel on your wishlist, you notice; one that you had mentioned to him in passing. Small colored tabs stick out from the side of the book. Thumbing through the first few pages, you see that he underlined some passages, his neat writing occupying the margins, the blue highlighter bringing your attention to a handful of quotes. Just from reading the first sentence as well as Scaramouche’s comments, you could tell that you were going to enjoy reading this.

But you recall a casual remark he during one of your past conversations — he doesn’t typically annotate his books. Did he do this for you?

“Nothing. Just thought you should read a good book for once,” he answers, not quite looking at you.

“Excuse you, I read good books sometimes.”

“The last book you read, you kept ranting about how the writing wouldn’t just ‘let the characters fucking talk’. Your words, not mine.”

“And the last book you read, you literally couldn’t finish because you kept getting fed up with the protagonist doing nothing.”

He groans, “Are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

You give him an unimpressed look, setting the book and stationery aside, “This novel better be as good as you say it is.”

He was right. The book was actually good. You even ended up adding your own annotations alongside his — like having your own conversation amidst the pages of the book.

His comments, whether they be snarky, insightful, or analytical, definitely enhanced the experience. And thanks to that, you end up finishing the book in just two days.

Another one of your story discussions happens and, amidst the bickering, a book he mentions piques your interest.

After making fun of the ever-growing list of books he wants to read, to which he retorts by saying you’re not better off, an idea pops into your head and you search for the novel he’s looking for.

It’s in a genre you wouldn’t typically go reaching for, but this is the least you could do for him, right?

You spend the next week reading and annotating the book, using the highlighter and tabs Scaramouche had given you to highlight passages and give your comments.

The shocked look on his face when you gave him the copy of the book was definitely worth it.

“Just thought you should read a good book for once,” you say, sliding the book toward him.

“Huh. Don’t you hate this genre?”

“Surprisingly enough I actually liked the story; you have decent recommendations when you’re not being such a dick. So, are you gonna accept my gift or not?”

He rolls his eyes, snatching the book from the table, and mumbling a quiet ‘thanks’. 

You pretend not to see the blush that reaches his ears.

Ayato

It starts off as most days do, with a delivery of new books.

You open the box to find the newest releases as well as some bestsellers. One of the covers catches your eye, the title Child of the Roses emblazoned in front of an illustration of two women laying in a field of red roses — one of the books you’ve always wanted to get your hands on ever since the author announced the plot.

Sure you could purchase the book right now, but your budget for the month didn’t have a lot of wiggle room. And if you did wait until next month, you couldn’t exactly guarantee the availability of the book since it always manages to sell fast.

While you’re restocking the shelves, the door to the store opens, and in come a man and woman with pale blue hair. 

The girl starts looking around while the man walks up to you.

“Does your store happen to sell the book Traingazing?” the man asks. There’s an elegance in the way he carries himself — well-dressed, handsome, and dignified in the way he speaks, “It’s alright if you don’t.” 

You confirm its availability and lead him to the nearby shelves, “You lucked out today, sir. This is our last copy.”

He laughs. Fuck, even his laugh sounds expensive, “Lucky indeed. My sister and I have gone to five stores today just looking for it.”

The girl, his sister, you presume, comes up to you two with a small stack of books in hand, “Did you find it?”

The man holds up the book, its silver-edged pages gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the store, “Got their last copy, too.”

She sighs in relief, “Good. You can finally stop nagging me about you never being able to grab a copy before they sell out.”

“Says the one who dragged me to eight stores looking for a book you ended up hating.”

The siblings leave shortly after purchasing their books. 

The rest of the day passes by as normal. Rush hour usually comes around early afternoon to late evening, when students get out of school and people usually get off work. 

Unfortunately, your shift just about lines up with the store’s more chaotic hours.

You spot a familiar blue-haired man again later that evening while you’re in the middle of helping another customer. He’s browsing the shelves when he spots you.

“Can you help me with something? I’m looking for a gift for my sister.”

“Oh, the girl you were with this afternoon, right? What kind of books does she like?”

He describes the types of books she favors along with a handful of her favorite authors. You lead him to some nearby shelves, picking out some books and giving him a brief synopsis of each one. He listens intently to each of your suggestions, his lilac eyes focused on you.

As you’re finishing up, he spots a book behind you and grabs it from the shelf. You spot the familiar title, Child of the Roses. As usual, whenever you restock it, it’s the last one in stock. “You thinking of buying that one? It’s our last copy.”

The man reads the synopsis as you summarize the plot, “Seems like quite the interesting book if it got you so excited.”

You laugh at his remark, “Well, I’ve been wanting to read that book for a while now, but I never manage to get a copy before they sell out.”

He considers the book before saying, “Is that so?”

Your co-worker calls for you before you can respond, saying that they need help with manning the cash register.

After almost an hour of helping with scanning barcodes and packing books, the blue-haired man stands in front of the counter.

He holds up Child of the Roses, “If it’s alright, I’d like to make this a separate purchase.”

Figures he’d buy the book if the reviews and your excited ramblings are anything to go off of. While you were sad that the chance to purchase the novel had once again slipped away, at least you could be reassured that it would be in good hands.

After giving him the book and the receipt, he simply hands them both back to you, “You were quite passionate when you described the book to me. I thought I should buy it for you before someone else gets it.”

This has to be a dream, “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I mean don’t get me wrong! I’m grateful, but don’t you want to read this, too?”

A smile graces his face, “Of course. You helped me find what I was looking for this afternoon, so this is the least I can do for you.”

When you finally get home and settle down for the evening, you open the book, intending to get through just one chapter.

That’s when you find a calling card in between the pages of the index and the first chapter, the name Kamisato Ayato in immaculate handwriting on one side along with his number.

On the back was a message: I’m actually currently reading Child of the Roses, so I have no need for another copy. But if you’d like, we could go out sometime and read it together. What do you say?

Childe

Most days there's not really much to do aside from the usual talking to customers, restocking the shelves, and helping close up shop. 

So sometimes you read just to pass the time. 

You’re just finishing up a chapter when the door to the store opens.

Ajax, you learn his name, is a massive flirt. Instead of talking to you like a normal person, he instantly says the cheesiest pickup line you’ve ever heard.

“I don’t need glasses,” he says, leaning on the counter, “ ‘cause I can clearly see that we were meant to be.”

It’s way too early for this shit, “... sir are you going to buy a book or not?”

He tips his head back and laughs, “C’mon! You have to admit that one was good.”

And he’s come by the store every so often ever since.

He’s quite the chatterbox too, talking about anything he can think of whenever you scan his items at the counter.

You learn he’s an older brother when he asks you for book recommendations for his younger siblings. His attentiveness to his siblings’ taste in literature never fails to put a smile on your face.

You also learn that he’s very knowledgeable in literature.

He comments on one of the books you’re reading during one of his visits, talking about his favorite scenes as well as discussing the characters with you.

A week of nearly daily visits turns into a month, with you getting used to his corny pick-up lines and little conversations.

But then it suddenly stops. A week passes without Ajax’s visits.

You don’t think too much of it until that one week turned into three. 

He was under no obligation to come back every day, of course. He was a customer, at the end of the day, and there was never any guarantee that he wouldn’t suddenly stop visiting the bookstore nearly every day.

But you couldn’t help feeling dejected at the thought of just never seeing him again.

Then, on one unassuming Monday afternoon, a familiar face returns to the store.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” Ajax winks at you, “Mind if you help me look for a book?”

You smile, doing your best to hide your surprise, “Good to see you’re still doing well.”

He gives a vague description of what he’s looking for: a sci-fi series that’s appropriate for his little brother Teucer, the third book to a series his sister Tonia is currently reading, and “whatever you think is good” for him.

Walking over to the shelves, you could feel his eyes on you as you started picking out the books for his siblings. A soft smile is on his face when you turn to face him, becoming wider when your eyes meet his.

“You were gone for a while,” you say, unsure of how to continue. His life is none of your business and like hell were you going to admit that you missed him.

He sighs, “Yeah. Work has been a lot these past few weeks, but now that it’s loosened up I can finally start seeing my favorite person more often.”

“Your favorite person huh?”

“Getting the chance to talk to you is the highlight of my visits. Of course you’d be my favorite person.”

He leans in close to you, “Y’know, I just realized that I’ve lost my number. So can I have yours?”

You roll your eyes, still smiling, “You could have just asked for my number like a normal person.”

Ajax laughs, and you find yourself wishing you could listen to it every day.

inazuma’s archon can finally enjoy the world

BOYFRI3ND MAT3RIAL !

➵ tighnari, xiao, scaramouche

☯ love is real, and the proof was right infront of them

☯ genshin men + moments full of fluff ☆

☯ i was writing for albedo too but it came out so bad i just deleted it HELPSNLA anyways new theme slay

you had always disregarded TIGHNARI's affection and care for you as concern but even cyno thinks otherwise.

"i came here yesterday because i left my pen here but tighnari said it was too dark so i slept here" you shrugged, cyno was asking a bit too many questions and it was starting to feel weird.

"not ou of the ordinary, he's always nagging like a worried mother or something." you snorted hoping to brighten up the mood but cyno wasn't looking very amused.

perhaps it was because you had barricaded your heart or you were just incredibly dumb.

probably the second one.

tighnari walked in, his eyes landing on you with a cute smile before glancing over at cyno.

you paid no mind to their conversation, walking away to let them talk in peace.

it takes anyone around tighnari to notice how his voice is softer and less snappy when he's near you, maybe get a little closer and you'll see hearts in his eyes.

but unlike what others said, you knew.

you saw the way he always found some kind of excuse to have his hands on you, whether it would be to fix your collar or his hand on your waist to… help with stability, whatever that means.

he was obvious.

and maybe he wanted that.

his view of love was demoralized with his… work. but if that truly was the case, why is it that he's always behind you like some puppy?

literally.

"hey y/n." his hand was placed on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

you responded with a hmm?, trying not to look at him in fear that your expression might give anything away.

"hey, have you ate yet? i told you to-"

and there he goes.

but as he's spilling out these random words out of his mouth, you realize—

he'd make a good husband.

more chars utc ➹

xiao had always said he found no interest in foolish stuff such as... love.

but he has buried his jealousy towards lovers with the same sentence he says when asked about the topic.

he's fully aware that getting too close to someone will only end with regret on the other person's side.

living for so long, he's long forgotten the sensation of tenderness, if he's ever felt it before... oops. don't say that around him.

but he wonders if this little bird that's chirping in his ear everyday will change that.

he loved seeing you with that same dopey smile but he dreaded that feeling in his chest whenever he left his mind wander off for too long.

finally, he gets a small rest from all of these intrusive thoughts when he sits next to you, watching the way your eyes twinkled, following the lanterns in the dark blue sky.

"it's super duper beautiful!! don't you think so, xiao?" he got startled when your head turned to look at him, who paid no mind to the big stars in the sky, as you called them.

thankfully, you turned your attention to the crystalfly that flew infront of your face, a gasp erupting out of you.

you were charming.

you knew about all the tragic events in teyvat, but you never brought them up to anyone, choosing to leave that in the past.

too bad his past is and will always be bound to him.

but he swats away his troubles so he could leave this chaos for even a split second, for you.

if you really did find crystalflies so beautiful, then he should call you a crystalfly-

"is it true that crystalflies die too early?" your voice was soft but he still flinched for some reason.

ah... of course.

something will always turn against him, huh?.

scaramouche was angry.

it wasn't uncommon to see him angry, but it was uncommon to see him be so childish.

you had refused his kisses because you were annoyed and exhausted but then it turned to him being annoyed and exhausted.

it was almost 1am and he was still sitting on the chair next to your bed, folding his ars over his chest while he puffed out his cheeks.

cute, you would call him if you weren't so tired right now.

"love, just lay down please..." your hoarse voice called out but he hmph-ed, looking away dramatically.

letting out a sigh you murmured— "fine then, i'll just sleep by myself."

you expected him to jump into the bed immediately but was shocked when the other side of the bed was still empty.

you were starting to get worried and turn around but was relieved when the bed sunk with his weight.

the little guilt was making your heart ache too much so you shifted closer to him, laying down on your back before pulling him closer.

"what are you-" his words were left discontinued when you lifted his head onto your chest, softly running your fingers thru his hair to lull him to sleep.

he wanted to pull the upset act a bit but was shut down when he heard your heartbeat, loud and clear, ringing in his ears.

the feeling was unexplainable, he felt envious yet joyful at the same time.

closing his eyes, he slowly placed his hand on his chest, where his heart would be.

not proofread pls forgive me for any mistakes lol

#-reblogs are greatly appreciated !

— 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐘.

❝𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥.❞

SUMMARY. refers to a behaviour or way of thought peculiar to an individual; but in this case, it’s something that they do around you and only you.

CHARACTERS. tighnari, alhaitham, cyno.

GENRE. fluff, a moderate amount of crack, established relationship.

CW. mentions of cute aggression and affectionate bullying (in tighnari’s part), the reader is down bad for alhaitham and he knows it, one dad joke about cryo slimes (in cyno’s part).

THOUGHTS. finally managed to finish this draft while i was on my mini vacay >:) this is my first time writing sumeru men, so feel free to lmk what you think! <3

✰ masterlist.

TIGHNARI … likes to knock you on the head, very softly and lovingly.

No, no, don’t you go around thinking that you can escape his long and stern lectures just because the two of you are an item. Others may think that you’re the only one that has a privilege they don’t, but they can’t be more wrong.

Asking dumb questions? Flirting with him shamelessly? Want a kiss? You’d get a soft bonk to the head personally delivered by Tighnari himself first, if that even counts as a privilege.

Rest assured that Tighnari’s intent is never to hurt you, nor does it actually hurt when he does so. To him, it’s an effective way of hushing you nonverbally and it also, may or may not, be his extremely unique love language. Why?

Well, Tighnari kind of… and he stresses, just kind of likes how you scrunch your nose every time he flicks your forehead, how you would complain so adorably and how you would— ahem. Actually, he has some work to do right now, bye.

Keep reading

scarameow

🎭 just playing the part !

a social media au | scaramouche x gender neutral reader

synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

genre: modern college au, enemies/rivals to lovers, fluff, crack, angst if you squint

status: - ongoing, random updates, will try not to drag it out

warnings! time stamps don’t matter, unsupportive parents, mentions of alcohol and weed, will add more if needed, slight ooc?

ACTION!

the cast:

↳ y/n’s gang | scara’s “friends”

ACT ONE — new year same me cus i’m perfect !

01. the announcement

02. on the edge of my seat

03. beat me to it

04. the amigos

05. an unexpected companion

06. a one night stand

07. red flag

08. auditions

09. anticipation

10. monopoly ruins friendships

ACT TWO — the show must go on !

11. i won but at what cost

12. just admit you’re a virgin

13. i’m kinkshaming you

14. he’s a ten but he has mommy issues

15. grape lookin ass

16. enemies with benefits

17. will you be my bf? (totally not clickbait!)

18. wikihow perfect first kisses

19. with the taste of your lips i’m on a ride

20. bereal? id rather bedead / 20.5 confirm or delete

ACT THREE — break a leg !

21. is this what friends do?

22. twenty-one questions

23. walk him like a dog

24. free therapy

25. suffer in silence

26. kiss cam

27. falling for ya, literally

28. emails i cant send

29. yes or yes

30. loyalty tests

ACT FOUR — curtain call !

31. making it big

32. the it couple

33. after party; epilogue

CUT!

tag list — closed!

author’s note: i wanted to try smth longer tumblr needs more scara aus since we unlocked his heartbreaking backstory ,,, o(╥﹏╥)o i’m doing a college au! go easy on me this is my first long smau !! if u want me to continue it pls lmk i need motivation,,i’m also in college so i don’t have an update schedule lmao

ha?

every single person who reblogs this

every

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will get “doot doot” in their ask box

promise

[ scaramouche x child!reader ]

summary: promises are made to be broken. and scaramouche is a broken man.

note: this is purely platonic, i love feral platonic dynamics ueueue also damn this is slowly becoming a scara blog huh | m.list

words: 1054 | warnings: unedited because im lazy as fuck

"you want me to… leave?"

scaramouche stares down at you with a commanding look, arms crossed as he sits you down on the couch after claiming that he has an important task for you.

"that's right. leave this place the moment the doctor goes for sumeru, am i understood?"

"but—"

"no, that is an order."

your mouth shuts at the sparkle of crackling electro in the air.

to leave him brings you a sense of fear and anxiousness tantamount to the number of people's throat that you had cut in half. to leave him means to be alone once more. to be separated means to not follow behind him with watchful eyes, no more of his stories whenever he catches you awake at midnight, no more standing close to him under his hat when it rains as he drapes the ends of his sleeves over your head to keep you dry.

to leave him means no more home to go back to.

why?

why would he ask you this when you have nowhere to go? no family to go back to other than him?

is he?...

"am i… am i disposable?"

scaramouche visibly staggered at your whispered words, pointing his furrowed eyes at you.

"what? i did not say that, brat."

"but you want me to leave. am i being disposed of?"

"wha—listen, brat," scaramouche sighs loudly, "i'm not disposing of you. i'm telling you to leave this place—why are you crying!?"

silent streams of tears cascade your cheeks, your teeth chomping on the inner skin of your bottom lips to keep it from trembling. after all, scaramouche hates it when you cry. he hates it when you're being weak.

perhaps it is because you're weak that he finds you replaceable?

"i can hear your thoughts from the look on your face, brat," scaramouche sighs tiredly, pushing himself up to crouch in front of you. with one hand, he tilts your chin up to look at your teary eyes—something in his chest aches at the very sight of your crestfallen face. if he had a heart, he's pretty sure it would stop beating for a second, though he dares not utter such sentiments.

"stop crying."

"you don't want me here."

"that's not what i said, are you deaf?" he clicked his tongue with a glare, the hand on your chin coming up to flick your forehead—albeit painless, so unlike his usual flicks. "i'm telling you to leave because i won't be here if anything happens while i'm in sumeru. you're leaving this place for your own safety."

dumbfounded, you tilt your head in silent confusion.

"you're still stupid as ever."

"i'm not," you pout.

"if you're not then you should know why you have to leave, idiot," scaramouche leans a little close to speak quietly, a stern look in his eyes that speaks volume of how important his next words are, "listen carefully. i will have to stay in sumeru for a very long time and the doctor will be there. do you still remember the doctor?"

"yes," you nod, "the psycho man with a mask."

you're a psycho yourself, he thought.

"that's right, but he's not the only one i'm looking out for. the other idiots in the fatui are going to come after you if they see the chance to do so. i know you're capable on your own, but those are harbingers that can and will eliminate you if you give them the smallest reason to do so," his eyebrows furrow at his own words—mental images of the things they can possibly do to you shall you defy their orders and he resist the urge to shiver—"that's why you're leaving. run as far away as you can and never leave a trace. don't let others see you, hear you, or even have the slightest chance of getting to you," a hand cups your puffy cheek, eyes staring right into yours as if looking through your soul.

so… he's not throwing me out?

"am i understood?"

with a sniff, you nod your head, wiping your tears sloppily before he scoffs and does it himself, a pair of cold hands that's been tainted in blood now gently wipes the crystal pearls from your cheeks.

"what about you?"

"what about me?" he echoed.

"promise me you'll come find me?"

taken aback, his hand leaves your cheeks for a moment, eyes wide with a combination of awe and disbelief. he feels uncertainty and a sense of dejavu overcome his senses, a fear making itself known at the back of his mind despite burying it six feet underground and more. the fire that burnt bright in his chest begins to distinguish, flickers of flame wavering and embers diminishing. this only happens for a second, before he steels himself and searches for any hint of deception in yours. yet he finds none in those hopeful eyes that dares demand him of promises.

how audacious of you to ask promises from him?

"are you dumb? who says anything about

not coming back?" his hand holds your cheeks once more, distracting himself by pinching the skin. "you belong to the spot next to me first and foremost, i thought i made that clear the first day i dragged you out of the streets?" he clicks his tongue, squishing your already pouty cheeks. "what? do you think this is your chance to finally leave? hah! you can't get away from me no matter where you hide, brat."

"ow!" you whine, trying to pull away from his hand but he pulls you close by your shoulders. almost immediately, your head nestles itself on his shoulder.

"i'll do whatever you ask me for," you exhaled a shaky breath, "as long as you promise to come find me."

if he had a heart, he knows it would be aching at the way you instantly melt in his arms—you're already small, yet you still manage to hide yourself within his hold.

it almost seems like you're hiding from the world by snuggling in his arms.

"i'll come find you," he ascertained, a hand brushing through your hair, "i'll make sure to bring you back. so for the meantime, you better stay alive."

"i will, i promise."

scaramouche closes his eyes, feeling his stomach drop at your words.

he's heard those same words before.

Reblog, click the picture, and prepare for battle.